Beauty of Chaos
by steer2justice
Summary: A man and his search for the meaning of life. For what good is life without chaos and destruction?


As the man sat in the chamber, he contemplated about his life.

They told him not to think while the Magitek infusion process was being carried out, but he thought they were being worried over nothing. Magitek was state-of-the-art, a futuristic process designed to allow normal human beings to wield the power of gods. The power to destroy and create to your heart's desire. The power that had single-handedly sparked off a war that almost destroyed the Planet.

Magic.

And he was the first. The first of a glorious generation of Magitek Knights, magic-wielding super soldiers that would fight and die for their cause. Namely, for Emperor Gestahl, the supreme ruler of the Gestahlian Empire. There were rumors, of course. Rumors that the process had not yet been perfected, that fear of Gestahl's wrath caused the researchers to rush it out. The nameless man was not afraid, however. A cowardly man would not have been as brilliant as he was in the art of military strategy. It was ambition and talent that propelled his meteoric rise through the ranks, to become the head strategist of the Gestahlian Empire.

As the machines whirred, injecting anesthesia into his body to numb his body to the many injections that would infuse his body with the power of magic, he smiled.

He had always been special, that much he knew for certain, and now he would prove his ability to his critics. To show them how powerful he was.

There was another fear that had been plaguing the man for years.

He had been suffering from incessant nightmares, with morbid Jungian archetypes and insane laughter.

Of clowns and court jesters, who laughed maniacally in his dreams. Of dangerous, beautiful flames consuming everything he held dear. Power, wealth, everything.

Most prominently, of a desolate wasteland, with blood red rivers, despairing townspeople and-

-And a tower of God.

It was ironic that the very first test subject for the Magitek infusion process was someone who was afraid of the very idea of a God. The Warring Triad had powers beyond his imaginations, but it was not God. The God in his dreams had been a being of infinite strength. A being who had four wings and was cloaked only with a loincloth. Of a being who radiated light.

The man's God had a cruel, sickening laugh, as if he knew the meaning of life. The meaning of life that no human should have been aware of. Then again, gods were different from humans because they had the power to be different. The man wondered faintly if he could have become one, with the power of Magic. No insolent fool would dare cross him once again, knowing he could easily set him on fire if he wished.

The God had a name, and it was Kefka.

He felt God's kiss in his skin, as power coursed through every fibre of his being. The man grinned widely, at the realization of his dream.

Absolute power.

He would- No, he could become a god if he so wished. He could reign over everything, and topple Gestahl and his foolishly short-sighted Empire. He could become God itself, and reign over the world with this power.

The nightmares would be no more, crushed by his godlike strength. His dissenters would be persecuted and tortured endlessly, made to cower and beg for their lives.

And he would kill them after humiliating them completely, of stripping them of every last ounce of their dignity.

Clowns? Symbols of fear? Of the being they called Kefka?

He could and he would crush them all. With this power, he was God and he could do anything.

But-

What exactly was the meaning of life then? If Magic was the power of the gods, and if God knew the meaning of life, then it only made sense that he would know it as well.

...And then it dawned on him.

The ideal world _was _the wasteland.

A beautiful picture of catastrophe, despair and destruction. Beauty in destruction, how poetic.

Fire. He would burn everything down. That was the meaning of life.

_Destruction._

_Despair._

_Chaos._

A quiet, trembling voice at the back of his head asked, "What if you die?"

What if he died?

What if God died?

Would anything have mattered once he did? Once he died, he would be whisked into the Phantom Train of legend and his power would be gone. He would then be reduced into something simple, of something trivial, like a pitiful human.

Where did life come from?

Where did dreams come from?

Where did hope come from?

All these things were abstract, and-

If God's power was absolute, he could destroy anything. Anything concrete, that is. Did God also have the power to destroy abstract beliefs?

No.

There was nothing he couldn't do. He would destroy them all.

And he was now Kefka.

The harbinger of destruction. The messiah of the new world. He would usher in a new age of chaos and destruction.

And he laughed. It was humorous, his life's struggle for power and wealth. Nothing else mattered anymore. Nothing else mattered from the very beginning.


End file.
